


Je vois la vie en rose

by PoorWendy



Series: And we'll never be lonely anymore [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorWendy/pseuds/PoorWendy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted drabbles and ficlets that take place after the events of "And we'll never be lonely anymore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home is where your hand is

Eames can't really begin to believe any of it has been real until they arrive at his apartment. Arthur drops his bags on the floor and slumps down onto the couch the same way he has so many times before, but the way he looks up at Eames is so very different. Eames climbs on top of him.

He was on fire the whole drive home but the moment he feels Arthur against him his world is slow, sleepy, so much softer than before.

They sleep on the couch like that until the middle of the night, when they stumble down the hall to Eames' room, make each other come sloppy and fast with some mix of hands and lips and tongues and plain rutting friction.

They shower, briefly rejuvenated, and Eames heads off to roll them a joint after telling Arthur to help himself to any of Eames' clothes he likes.

When Eames brings the joint back to the bedroom, Arthur's lying there in a pair of Eames' old sweatpants, and a tee-shirt with Eames' red handprint on it from his screen-printing seminar years ago. The design was inspired by the bloody handprint Eames left in the woodshop after he nicked the tendon in his right pinky. Eames had printed four shirts, one for each of them.

"I missed this shirt," Arthur tells him.

"Don't have yours anymore?"

"I do," Arthur tells him, curling up beside Eames as he lights the joint. "It's not exactly in the best condition anymore. There's holes, it's practically see-through at this point."

Eames exhales a cloud of smoke through his smile. "Never realize you wore it that much."

Arthur smiles and places his hand over the handprint on his shoulder. "After I moved... When I missed you. And I missed you all the time."

And as lovely as Arthur looks in that shirt, and as ready as Eames was to fall back asleep beside him, he stubs the half-joint out in the ashtray on his nightstand, pushes the shirt up Arthur's chest, and starts at covering every inch of him with kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is really going to be a pretty casual affair! I have a few more in the works at the moment, but I'll really just add little bits and pieces as I think of them, little windows into Arthur and Eames' life together <3


	2. A hairsbreadth is too far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished all my grown-up, employment-seeking responsibilities. So here's a li'l celebratory first-time action.

Arthur wanted to wait to have sex until they went to get tested. It wasn't that Arthur doubted that either of them were clean, but Arthur was always good at taking care of himself. There are some things you just don't chance.

He'd been adamant about wanting nothing between them during their first time. He was sure about that as soon as he'd fingered Eames for the first time, practically making Eames blush as he muttered, "God, I can't wait to fill you with my come," three fingers deep in Eames, face against his cock, totally wrapped up in the sight of the perfect, writhing body beneath him. Eames came immediately, nearly untouched, and into Arthur's hair. Neither of them could stop laughing about it, even as Arthur conditioned for the third time in the shower.

So, the first time they have sex, Eames rides Arthur, bareback, nothing between them, close as they can possibly get, and Arthur comes about a minute and a half after Eames sinks down onto him.

Three hours later, they try again, Eames on his back with his legs wrapped around Arthur above him. Arthur's so gentle with him at first, but eventually Eames manages to convince him that he won't break.

After that, Eames learns that Arthur loves to fuck hard, slamming into Eames, pulling hair in his fists and pulling flesh between his teeth, sweating and swearing and gripping Eames' hips hard enough to bruise.

After a few weeks, once Eames has gotten three fingers inside Arthur, Arthur tells him he's ready to try to bottom. It's slow-going, Arthur gasping and shutting his eyes tight. But about two seconds after Eames bottoms out, Arthur whimpers and pushes down hard against him, pulling at Eames' shoulders and bucking beneath him.

Arthur's sobbing in no time, actual, honest-to-god tears running from his eyes as Eames angles himself to push against Arthur's prostate with every careful stroke. He chants  _I love you_ desperately, over and over again, against Eames' hair, into his mouth, through gritted teeth clamped down on his shoulder, and all Eames knows is to say it back, again and again. It's probably the most adoring, simplistic pillow-talk the neighbors have been lucky enough to hear.

Ever since that night, Arthur rarely tops.


	3. Merry and bright

Arthur hates Christmas. Eames loves it.

They've never spent it together. Eames has traditionally gone home to London (apart from the year that he and Yusuf had decided to stay in the apartment for Christmas and play Halo for an ungodly number of hours). Arthur has traditionally spent it in Delaware with his family because, even though his mother's Jewish, she's really,  _really_ bad at it when Christmastime rolls around.

Arthur hates Christmas because, in spite of his family's financial woes, his mother has always gone all-out for Christmas. As a teenager, when Arthur realized how much money she spent to make Christmas special for him and his sister, he became enraged with the "social norm" of blowing your paycheck on a holiday (one they weren't even 'supposed' to celebrate) just because all the commercials told you to.

Eames loves it because, well, Eames loves to love things. And whatever issues he sometimes has with his fairly uptight family, Christmas in England with them has been downright magical since hew as a child; absurdly giant and immaculately trimmed fir trees, a perpetual aroma of gingerbread wafting through the house, his mother singing carols as his grandfather plays the piano.

He asks Arthur whether he'd like to come home with him for Christmas, but Arthur doesn't want the first time he meets Eames' family (well, he met his parents once before, very briefly, at Eames' graduation, but back then he was only Eames' friend) to be during a time of year he loathes so thoroughly. Especially when it apparently means so much to them.

And while Arthur implores Eames to go without him, Eames assures Arthur that a Christmas without him, however lovely and traditional, would be utterly incomplete.

So instead, Eames downloads all the best old Christmas movies he can think of:  _It's a Wonderful Life_ ,  _Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Carol_ ,  _White Christmas_. He even begrudgingly finds a recipe for eggnog (one of the few traditions Arthur does seem to like -  _blegh)_ , and the two of them sit in bed all Christmas day, smoking joints and sipping at their nog (although Eames bails out after about a cup and a half and opts for spiked cocoa).

They agreed on no gifts, but of course, Eames couldn't manage to comply. He makes him a lovely cherrywood box, stained deep red and intricately carved with pine trees. As if the box itself isn't lovely enough, inside is a key to Eames' apartment. The sentiment is enough already when Eames speaks up.

"I thought, if you'd like to... Maybe you could move in. I know it's a longer commute, of course, and please don't feel you need to--"

"Eames," Arthur cuts off his nervous rambling. "There's no question. Yes."

It's the best Christmas of Arthur's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kicked myself today when I realized I forgot to post this yesterday! It was a busy, busy Christmas for me. Nice to be able to breathe again. Happy Holidays :)


	4. Cling

Sometimes they play the  _I-dare-you-to-scare-me-away_ game, revealing their most embarrassing, clingy, secret memories of each other, just to test the limits of their comfort together. They have yet to freak each other out. They just find out that they've each been  _just_ as obsessed with the other for just about forever.

"I used to refresh your Facebook page, sometimes all night, when you weren't in the apartment, just to see what you were up to," Arthur says.

"I found that sweatshirt you lost my senior year, and I had it crammed between my mattress and the wall for months," Eames one-ups him.

"I pretended you were watching  _Casablanca_ with me over Christmas break my sophomore year."

"I  _wanked_  to _Casablanca_ that  _very same break_ because it put you in my head."

"My roommate in Paris told me, 'I didn't know Eames was your boyfriend' after he heard me moaning your name in my sleep."

"I cried when you went to Paris, and then again after you came home, because all you could talk about was moving there."

Arthur gives him a kiss on the temple as belated consolation for that one. "The other day, I accidentally called you my husband to a woman at the bar."

Eames grins at that. "I have never once corrected someone who mistakenly called you my husband."


	5. Memory lane, and higher education

Arthur and Ariadne's five-year reunion makes them all feel old (particularly Yusuf and Eames, who graduated two years  _earlier_ ). It seems like half their class grew up in double-time, getting married and already sharing baby photos. Some have impressive careers, some are "between jobs," some are making their way simply like Arthur and Eames. Halfway through happy hour, growing weary of dodging questions about when _they're_ going to get married, and strangely phrased comments about how Arthur is  _still_ working at the same bar from all those years ago, Arthur and Eames steal away and walk the campus.

They haven't been back here since well before they got together a year earlier. Arthur takes Eames' hand and pulls him this way and that, pointing the sites of various memories. "First week of classes, freshman year, I fell in front of everybody on this path," he tells Eames near one of the academic buildings.

"Were you hurt?" Eames asks, trying to mask the smile with concern.

Arthur laughs. "I  _ate it_ ; I skinned up my knees and the heel of this hand," he holds it up. "Plus the other elbow."

Eames can't mask the smile anymore. "And then, of course, the utter mortification at having fallen so spectacularly and publicly."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Yes, that certainly took the longest to heal. Not until some drunk slob at the Beacon told me to stop giving a shit what everybody else thought."

Eames pecks him on the cheek, and they go on.

They walk past Arthur and Ariadne's old freshman dorm, and circle around the entire building to point out both their windows on the third floor. "Must seem like just yesterday that you walked in on Nash wanking," Eames says wistfully.

Arthur screws up his face at that. "Oh god, why would you—" Eames laughs, cutting Arthur off momentarily. "I never should have told you guys about that," Arthur manages to add. "Made it impossible to block out."

"At least you never have to see Nash again if you don't like. Imagine having to forget about walking in on Yusuf and Ariadne..." Eames says, suddenly emotionally detached like he's remembering some horrific battle in which he'd once fought. "You don't forget that sight."

Arthur chuckles as he remembers. "The sounds are haunting enough. And Ariadne's gory details."

They keep walking, past the other freshman dorm (the one where Eames and Yusuf had lived during their first year), up to the buildings that housed the suites. "Christ," Eames says, stopping in front of a tree near the entrance to one of the halls. "Look at this tree," he says, as his eyes light up with another memory. "Do you know, during our first year, Yusuf and I got  _entirely_ pissed at the rugby suite, and then I got to watch him vomit on this tree when it was only a sapling."

Arthur throws his head back laughing. "What a truly beautiful representation of time," he says once he catches his breath.

They loop around and wander back down past the dorms, down past the cafeteria and the athletic center. They wander all the way to the soccer field, and climb up onto the top row of the bleachers. It's dark without the game lights on, so far from the action on a Saturday night. Eames surprises Arthur when he pulls out a joint, and the two of them smoke it happily, shivering slightly in the October night. Once it's done, Arthur huddles against Eames, and Eames wraps an arm around him.

"I think it may be time to finally confess, Arthur," Eames says, "that I fostered many an impure thought on these bleachers, watching you play."

Arthur giggles. "I must have been such a scrawny thing back then."

"You were perfect. Though you seem to have surpassed even perfection with age."

Arthur might blush, it's hard to tell in the dark, and he rests his head against Eames' shoulder. "What'd I do to deserve you?" he sighs lightly.

Eames leans his head right back onto Arthur's. "Walked into my life looking positively adorable—all you ever had to do, darling." 


	6. Do Ya Think You Love Me?

"I was sleeping, and right in the middle of a good dream..." Arthur hears the words floating down the steps up to Eames' apartment-- _their_ apartment, now, Arthur smiles--as he moves through Eames' studio in the dark, coming home after a late shift at the restaurant.

"...when all at once I woke up, from something that keeps knocking at my brain," he hears, and finds himself mouthing along, "before I go insane, I pull my pillow to my head..."

See, the thing is, Eames...  _can_ sing. Technically. Arthur's wonderful Eames  _can_ , in fact, carry a tune. He's never quite off-key, never off-tempo... But his voice, well, it just wasn't  _made_ for singing, was it? All rasping gravel and that sort of tongue-in-cheekiness that seems to take up permanent residence in Eames' mouth... No, Eames' voice was made for talking, for flirting, for putting people in their place, for light snark.

But, anyway, Eames sings  _all. the. time._ And often, the same song for hours, or days, or, god help him, even  _weeks on end_. Until Eames himself grows tired of it, and a new song starts bubbling out of him later. He's been on this Partridge Family bender for a few days now, and Arthur knows why, of course. Because Arthur'd finally worn Eames down enough a couple weeks ago to share his  _secret_ _Arthur playlists_. The ones Arthur didn't even know about until after he'd moved in and seen over Eames' shoulder as he was tidying up one of his external hard drives, and spotted  _at least_ twenty folders that all started with  _Arthur_ , and then appeared to have the beginnings of dates following them.

It took a little prodding, but Eames finally spilled: Along with those from countless parties, and reading days he'd spent holed up in the art building, and road trips he'd taken in college... Eames has a substantial collection of playlists, built over 8 years of silent pining, all for his Arthur. Some of the Arthur playlists are hopeful, some are sexy, and some are so heartbreaking that Arthur actually feels his eyes get a little wet at thinking of the pain Eames must have gone through while listening to them. Some, on the other hand, are just  _silly_ \--just  _Eames_.

And that's where the Partridge Family comes in. And Arthur's slowly climbing the steps now, sure that Eames is too far gone into the emotions of his technically-accurate rendition to hear him. "I woke up with this feeling, I didn't know how to deal with... And so I just  _decided_ to myself"--Arthur has to stifle a giggle at Eames' earnest emphasis on  _decided_ \--"I'd hide it to myself, and  _never think about it_ "--Arthur  _is_ giggling now, god, no one who isn't actually performing for people has any right to  _emote_ so heavily... So he climbs the steps all the while, so proud of himself for the timing he's making, because as he's unlocking the door with his key, Eames is singing, "And did not go and shout it when you walked into the room--"

" _I think I love you!!!"_ Arthur sings, now with a nice view of Eames at the kitchen sink, scrubbing up dishes. And to be honest, the exclamation surprises Arthur nearly as much as it does Eames. After all, Arthur certainly wasn't _planning_ to join in...

And, stupidly enough, Arthur expects Eames for half a second to be embarrassed. And maybe,  _maybe_ for half a second Eames is. But Arthur will never be sure, because he doesn't even let the imaginary tempo get away from him before picking back up where he left off, gray eyes glittering at Arthur like he's never been so happy. "I think I love you! So what am I so afraid of?" he sings happily, letting the dish he was washing fall with a very concerning clatter into the sink.

Arthur allows himself half-a-second this time to worry about the dish, but is having too much fun to care.


End file.
